


Live Like It's Spring

by rubygirl29



Series: Love Knows No Season, No Clime [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29
Summary: Bucky decides to get his disaster of a life together, because after the winter, he can't bear to walk out on Steve. This is a continuation ofNo Enemy But Winter.





	Live Like It's Spring

**Author's Note:**

> I've had several requests for a second story set in this AU. I've added Carol Danvers as the director of the Brooklyn Veterans Center, and Sam telephones his work in, literally.

_“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.”  
― Pablo Neruda _

_“Despite the forecast, live like it's spring.” Lilly Pulitzer_

It's just a plain Brooklyn red brick storefront; not in the best neighborhood, but not in the worst. An American flag beside the door and the service insignias painted on the glass almost make the sign _Brooklyn Veterans Center_ , unnecessary. Bucky tugs the brim of his cap lower and hunches inside his hoodie. Well, Steve's hoodie, because he needs the comfort. Steve is away on a press junket with Tony, and Bucky told him he would be fine on his own for a few days. In truth, he hasn't slept well, eating has been a challenge, and he's spent too much time on the couch staring at the ceiling and wondering why Steve puts up with his nightmares and PTSD, not to mention the physical inconvenience of his missing arm. 

Steve deserves better, and Bucky is tired of dragging the weight of his problems around. He doesn't have an appointment, but true to his training, reconnaissance seems like a good idea. He watches for thirty minutes, sees two or three people, men and women, enter the building. They're talking to each other, and they laugh like they're friends. A few minutes later, another man with the furtive, edgy look about him that Bucky recognizes in himself, opens the door just wide enough to let himself in. 

Bucky decides to reconnoiter. He crosses the street and enters. There is a reception desk to his left, and what looks like a waiting room to his right. A flight of stairs with a sign above it reading, "Meeting Room" is just past the waiting area. Another sign tells him that the offices are down the corridor in front of him. Everything is clean, but a little dingy. A wall of flyers in plexiglass holders attracts his attention. He wanders over and picks up one that advertises the services offered at the center. Group sessions include "Welcome home. Now what?", and other groups that meet at various times during the week ranging from PTSD and AA, to yoga, relaxation, and art therapy. A line at the bottom of the calendar says that Health and Wellness services are available by appointment. 

"Can I help you?" The soft voice makes Bucky startle visibly. "I'm sorry," the woman apologizes, I thought you heard me - or at least my shoes." She gives him a wry smile. "Are you okay?" She is tall, with short blonde hair, and an air of command. Bucky tamps down the urge to salute. 

"Yeah," he nods, and tries to smile back. "I was just looking over the services you offer."

"We're a small center. Some of the ones in the suburban areas offer more. We do what we can."

"Looks like you do a good job." He pauses, tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "My … umm … friend, Steve, thought I should stop in. He's … he's a veteran, too. Back longer than me." 

Her eyes soften. "Everybody here understands what it's like to come home from war. I'm Carol, the administrator, and also a veteran. Air Force." She holds out her hand. "Welcome."

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then he thinks of Steve, and grips her hand. "James Barnes. I was a sergeant with the Rangers ... in Afghanistan until this …" He shrugs, as if it doesn't really matter.

"Tough luck."

"That's one way to look at it." 

Carol's eyes narrow. "What services do you think will be most beneficial?"

Bucky could lie or soften the severity of his needs, but something about her makes him tell the truth. "I have nightmares. Once in a while I'll have a flashback. Not to where I'd hurt anybody, but … " His cheeks flame. "I don't want to talk out here."

"Can you come in tomorrow? Today is a rough day staff-wise. I can sign you up for an appointment with Peter. He's former special forces so he has a good idea of what challenges you face in understanding your PTSD. He runs a group session on Wednesday afternoons, if you want to try that."

Bucky's starting to feel overwhelmed. It must show because Carol comes from behind the desk and leads him to the sitting area. "It's a lot to handle. I'm sorry. I'm probably pushing too hard. Where would you like to start?"

"Maybe a group? Something not too intense or specific?"

"Okay. Bruce runs the Welcome Home group. It's a good introduction to what we do here. And maybe the yoga and relaxation class might help your sleep issues."

"I can do yoga with one arm?" He's doubtful. Carol smiles gently. "We're a veterans center. We know our people have physical and emotional … obstacles." 

Bucky thinks she bit back the word "damages." He tucks the pamphlets in his pocket. "Thank you."

"There's just a short form I need you to fill out with your contact information in case the center has to close. It's an old building and sometimes the weather gets the best of our utilities. There's no point in traveling out here if we're not open." 

Bucky fills out the form and hands it to her. Thanks to Steve, he now has a cell phone and an address. Carol takes the index card from him. "We'll see you at the Welcome Home session then, on Thursday?"

"I'll do my best," Bucky replies truthfully. "Some days are … better than others." 

"Call us or have somebody you trust let us know that you won't be here. Her eyes are shadowed. "We lose too many vets lately." 

Bucky has to think for a moment before it registers. "I've got a lot to live for, even on bad days." 

Her eyes warm. "I'm glad to hear that." Her phone rings, interrupting them before the conversation gets awkward. Bucky still is trying to negotiate his way around casual encounters with people he doesn't know. 

He steps outside and takes a deep breath. The air still has just enough chill in it to be uncomfortable and he mentally chides himself for getting too soft over the winter, as if having a roof over his head and three meals a day is some sort of undeserved luxury. And Steve … well, he's not sure that he has ever done anything in his life to deserve Steve. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and since the only person who ever calls him is Steve, he doesn't even look before he answers. "Hey, Steve."

A deep velvety chuckle comes over the line. "Sorry, dude. Not Steve. Now, don't turn me off -- Steve told me to give you a call. I'm Sam. Sam Wilson."

Bucky's heartbeat returns to normal. He's heard Steve talk to Sam. "Tell Steve I don't need somebody checking up on me. I'm fine."

"Hey, Steve is my friend and he calls to check up on me all the time. I mean like three times a week, so don't blame me. He didn't give me a checklist. I figured it was time we sorta met."

"I don't know what the weather is like in DC, but it's friggin' cold here in Brooklyn and I don't feel like chatting on a street corner. Call me in an hour and we can talk."

"Sure. Look, I'm really not spying on you for Steve, and if you want to talk about anything, I'll consider it confidential. Just say it's off the record."

"I'm hanging up now." Bucky puts his phone in his pocket and walks home. He heats up some leftover chicken soup and wishes the weather would warm up. He hates the ache the cold still gives him; it seems worse with Steve away. Steve runs hot while Bucky feels like he's only warm when Steve's wrapped around him. 

He'd turn up the thermostat, but it's not his heat to waste, so instead, he pulls on one of Steve's insanely warm sweatshirts and curls up on the sofa. He hopes Sam doesn't call and he hopes Steve does. 

Of course, Sam calls. "Are you safe?" he asks, making Bucky roll his eyes. 

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just checking."

"I'm at Steve's."

"Ah, is that your home?"

"I sleep here," Bucky tries to sound amused and not defensive, but apparently doesn't succeed when Sam makes a skeptical sound. "I'm hanging up now."

"Man, I'm sorry. Wait, okay? It's just that I really care about Steve. He's a good guy and he's been through a lot."

"Why the fuck would you think I'd hurt Steve?"

"I don't think you'd do it on purpose, but you could."

Bucky's head throbs. "I won't. I'm not here just because I need a roof over my head. I'd have left with the first thaw if that was the case."

"Does Steve know you're in love with him?"

Bucky hangs up.

He waits for Sam to call back, but the phone is silent. However, Sam's words linger. 

Of course he's in love with Steve. Steve saved him. Gave him a roof over his head, fed him. He puts up with his nightmares and panic attacks. He doesn't care about Bucky's missing arm. They had sex. They _have_ sex.They're both healthy (relatively, speaking) young men who find each other attractive. No big, right? 

Bucky's heart says he's a liar. He looks at his phone and calls Sam back. 

"I am in love with Steve," he admits. "I don't know if he feels the same. I don't know what to do."

Sam's voice gusts over the phone. "I can't tell you that, 'cause honestly, I'm not sure I'd know what to do."

"Some help you are," Bucky grumps and hangs up on Sam for the second time that day. He'd also lied to Sam when he told him he was only there for a roof over his head. His work with Stark had paid enough for him to put together a downpayment on a studio in a decent building. The truth is he doesn't want to leave. 

He slumps down on the couch. What would happen if he told Steve he was in love with him? The worst would be that he'd say something like Bucky had ruined a perfectly good arrangement and maybe he should leave as soon as he finds a place to stay. He didn't think in his wildest dreams that Steve might love him. That's got crazy written all over it. Bucky's head hurts. He hauls himself off the couch and into the bathroom where he takes a long, hot shower to ease his clenched muscles and aching head. 

When he comes out, feeling marginally better, Steve is home. "You're back," Bucky says stupidly, because it's pretty obvious. 

"Did you miss me?" Steve's eyes crinkle with laughter. 

"Oh, were you gone? I hadn't noticed." 

"Aww … don't be that way, sweetie." Steve chucks a pillow at Bucky. 

Bucky swats it away. "Punk."

"Jerk." Somehow, it sounds more like an endearment when Steve says it. 

"How was the gig?"

Steve raises a brow. "Gig? I guess that's one word for the Stark Dog and Pony show. I swear to God, I don't know why he drags me along."

"Eye candy. Gotta give the dames somebody to charm the money out of their pocketbooks."

"Dames? How quaint."

"And dudes?" Bucky tries to look innocent. 

Steve barks out a laugh. "Either way. Tony knows I'm bi, so I wouldn't be surprised if he was thinking that."

It's not like Bucky didn't know that about Steve. He just adds another several million people to the pool of possible matches for Steve. He's pretty sure he's not at the top of the list, though he hasn't noticed Steve sneaking out of the apartment. Or leaving looking even more gorgeous than he usually does. He doesn't think Steve is dating anybody, which is franky puzzling.

"What's wrong?" Steve, ever perceptive, asks Bucky. 

"Nothing." He focuses his gaze on his fingers. It's a shit answer, but what he wants to say is stuck in his throat. 

"C'mon, Buck. It's never nothing if it's bothering you that much."

"It's warming up. Almost spring, and thanks to Tony, I have enough to put a downpayment on a place of my own." 

"Oh." Steve is silent for the space of a few breaths. "Is that what you want?"

"Stevie, this is your apartment. It's not about what I want. I'm the one intruding. If you want me to leave, I will."

"If you're uncomfortable here. If I've done anything to make you feel obligated to me, in any way …"

"No!" Bucky stops him before he can say another word. "Of course, I want to stay … but maybe I shouldn't." He stands up, gathers all the courage he can muster and faces Steve. "You see, I … I'm in love with you, and if you don't feel the same, then I can't stay. I just can't." He turns away, afraid that what he'll see in Steve's eyes will hurt worse than losing his arm.

"You love me?" Steve says with shock and wonderment in his voice. Bucky nods, still not looking at him. "You're sure?"

Bucky can't help his bitter laugh. "Yeah, I'm pretty damn sure I fell in love with you when you gave me a thermos of soup and that Stark Industries blanket." His eyes fill with tears, which is ridiculous. He blinks to stem their fall, but to his mortification, they slip down his cheeks. He closes his eyes. 

"Bucky … " Steve touches his shoulder, turns him around. He feels Steve's thumbs caress the tears away. "Can you look at me?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Not right now."

"I'd kind of like you to see me when I tell you that I love you, too."

Bucky thought he was hearing things. "What?" His eyes open wide and Steve smiles. 

"That's better." 

Steve's smile has never been so gentle, his eyes so tender. He bends his head, angles it so their lips align. Bucky thinks he might die. Sure, Steve has kissed him before, but not like this, not with all his heart. Bucky can't help but melt into Steve's strong arms, part his lips and let Steve taste deeply.

It's a seismic shift in their relationship, and Bucky feels like this world is tilting beneath his feet. His knees wobble, and Steve is right there, holding him up, firm and gentle and strong. "Hey, you okay, Buck?"

"I-I think I just need to sit. I tell you, this is not what I was expecting." 

"What were you expecting?"

"To leave. Even if I didn't have a place to go, and you wanted space, I would have gone back to the streets now that it's Spring."

"Bucky, no … " Steve sounds unbearably sad. "The last months you've been here have been the best I've had in so long." When Bucky makes a moue of disbelief, Steve takes his shoulders. "No, you don't get to doubt what I say or what I feel."

"Stevie, you know I'm a mess. Between my missing arm, my PTSD and my sour moods, I'm not exactly anybody's idea of a good time."

Steve raises a brow. "It's not like I require entertainment. As for what you just said, I've had more time to adjust to everything. I'm patient. I can wait. Meanwhile, no matter what happens, I'd rather be here with you and your sour moods than anywhere else without you."

What can Bucky do but kiss him? After he's explored Steve's mouth and tasted him, he sinks into Steve's embrace. Warm, cherished, and hungry. 

"Did you have lunch?" he asks.

"Some sushi on Tony's jet. I'm starving."

"Go out, or take out?"

Steve groans. "I've been on planes, trains, and automobiles. I want to take a shower, put on comfortable clothes and curl up on my couch with you."

Bucky smiles. "Chinese, pizza, Korean, deli?"

Steve stretches. "God, I love Brooklyn. What do you want?"

"Korean chicken, and some of that hot sour soup."

"Perfect." He kisses Bucky. "You call, I'll shower. You can use my card."

"Nope. I got this," Bucky grins. "Got paid for a little project from Stark. He sure loves throwing money around."

"Well, he's got enough. But he spends it well." 

Bucky orders the food and gets two beers from the refrigerator. Steve doesn't take long in the shower, old army habits lingering. He emerges from the hall with rosy cheeks and damp hair, wearing jeans and a gray knit henley that shows off every sculpted muscle of his magnificent torso. He's perfect, more perfect than Bucky, with his maimed body and scarred mind, can accept; not the perfection of Steve, but the idea that he loves Bucky. Maybe it's only temporary, maybe it could be more, but Bucky isn't going to turn this chance down. Even if it doesn't last, he'll still have these memories to live on the rest of his life. 

"What?" Steve asks.

"Nothing. Just admiring the view and thinking that I'm starving."

Steve's brow lifts up. "That could be interpreted in different ways, you know."

"If the food wasn't on the way, I'd explore my other options." Bucky might be shit at flirting, but Steve blushes charmingly. 

"I'll keep those options open for later." He tries for a leer, but the sweetness of his smile betrays him, and it's Bucky's turn to blush. He's saved from melting into a tongue-tied mess by the arrival of their food. 

They eat, then Steve puts the dishes in the sink and returns to the couch. He's only gone a few minutes, but Bucky feels himself drifting off. Steve tugs him against his chest. "Tired?"

"Little bit." He sighs. "I went to the veterans center this morning. There's a group on Thursday I'm interested in, and then Sam called. I … I hung up on him twice."

Steve laughs. "Only twice? I can't count the times I hung up on him. But he kept on calling. Eventually it got through my thick Brooklyn skull that I needed help."

"He asked if I was in love with you."

"Oh?"

"It made me think too much, got my brain all in a twist. That's why I thought maybe I should leave."

Steve's fingers card gently through his hair. "Do you think that now?"

"No …" Bucky can't quite hide his doubt, but Steve either doesn't notice, or decides not to call it bullshit.

"That's good." He kisses Bucky's forehead. "Let's go to bed … to sleep. We're both tired."

"Might be hungry by breakfast," Bucky smiles even though his eyes are closed. 

"I think I can take care of all of your needs." 

Bucky does open his eyes, then. "You expect me to sleep thinking about that?" But he sits up, feeling Steve's hands slip away from holding him. He looks back at Steve as he heads into his bedroom. 

"Wrong door," Steve prompts. Bucky stops almost mid-step. 

Steve walks over to him. "Tonight, my bed. All night. I want to wake up to you sleeping next to me tonight and for all the other nights we have in our lives."

It sounds painfully permanent, and Bucky nearly bolts into his room, but Steve is offering his hand, and Bucky finds the courage to take it. If Steve believes they have a future, then Bucky is brave enough to face it with him. 

**The End**


End file.
